Existence Metamorphosized
by Viburnum
Summary: Mulder did not anticipate the return of such a foe - Tooms. Both monster and man are nemesis. In between them is Zara - someone who seemingly knows Tooms and is UNIQUE. However, this is a complicated web of attraction and maybe love...MulderxOCxTooms
1. Prologue

**Nostalgia = Nightmare**

"**Mirror, mirror on the wall – am I the grandest nightmare of them all..."**

Sundays are truly boring days. There's not much to do. I haven't started school yet. I look at my clown – it scares me. I really think it's grinning at me to _eat_ me. Mommy tells me not to think like that. When I cry and keep on telling her that she scolds me a little and soothingly tells me I am a good girl. I don't wanna be a good girl. Because good girls are not supposed to be scared and then they won't need Mommy

" Remember baby this is a short stay."  
" Why are we here Mommy?"  
" Daddy is here."  
" Is Daddy coming to meet us!"  
" No Daddy doesn't know we are here..."  
" So we are surprising Dad!"  
" Yes, baby, we will now hush – stay close to me nor else you'll get lost."  
" Ok Mommy."

I think I can be a good girl. Mommy likes good girls. I think I'll like good girls. But I am not sure yet.

Daddy doesn't come home anymore. I think he has become busy. Mommy stayed at home before but now she works too. I like Mommy working too at times because she brings me back more presents like Daddy. But also Mommy seems happier working when I asked her why she said " I think I am one of those people who likes working. I don't like staying still and at home."

Mommy is like me. I don't like staying. I play and I talk and I talk sometimes to my friends that others can't see – they are my secret friends. And I have them coz I don't have other friends. So, I like keeping them.

Mommy takes me around for long walks. Sometimes she sits in parks and I look at the birds. Sometimes Mommy cries. I wanna ask her what's the matter – she keeps crying and holds me close – but, sometimes she's like

" Dammit! Dammit! Zara please shut up!"

I get scared. I tried to talk one more time and she slapped me twice. I was very upset. So I ran away a bit. Then she came and hugged me and said "I'm, sorry Baby...I'm so sorry..." she was crying all the time.

She keeps on crying. She keeps on slapping. At times she thinks she should send me to school. I say I don't wanna. Everybody tease me. Call me mad – slow – talkative – chatter-box and mommy's girl. I don't get good marks.

" When are we going to meet Daddy..."

Sometimes it's "Soon."  
Sometimes it's "Enough with Daddy!"

Soon, one day we are walking again. We don't stop near any parks. Mommy tells me to wait outside a gate. She'll just ask something. I said ok.

I look around. The place seems nice. Except that building. It looks old. Doesn't anyone clean it? Does anyone live in it? It looks so dirt – if mommy saw this she'd shriek.

The building looks old and rotten and...I wanna see it in a way. It looks ghostly like the stories my cousins tells me to scare me (they don't like me really) – I wanna see but why?! It looks so scary! Why do I wanna see it!

I walk. I walk.  
I walk. I walk.  
I walk. I walk.

I walk. I walk.

Inside everything is dirty too. Spider webs and dust. Broken things. Boards. Bottles. Paint buckets. All is so dirty and ugly, no ugly, but sparkling in its own way.

" Hello."

My voice goes around.  
No one listens.  
NO one is there.

Something calls me.  
What is it?  
There is a door that looks weird to me for some reason.  
I open it.  
The place is so dirty. I want to leave. There is a bad smell coming from somewhere. Why is that mattress there? Against the wall? Why is the smell so strong there?

What should I do? Should I go back to Mommy? No – I – why is that mattress there?

I go near it.  
I touch.

It's hard. It's old.  
I pull. I pull. I pull. It's so much work. I pull and pull. I pull and pull. And – hole?

What's this? Is this like Alice in Wonderland?! I wanna see Alice in Wonderland be Zara in Wonderland.. I go and go. It's really icky the walls are painted badly. The smell is so bad. I thought wonderland smelled good and was exciting!

What are these things – hey, it's a mug, it's a watch – but that's broken – here, this is a comb. I comb my hair a bit and giggle. What are all these dusty things? Who keeps them? Is it a collection like my stuff toy collection or Salman's stamp collection (why is he so bright?) What is that smell and why am I so afraid...

...I

...I shouldn't be here – what's this – a ball of paper...like James giant peach I got Zara's giant paper? – is that peach juice – why is it yellow and I'm putting a finger – so soft but like so gross! What is it! Eww it smells! It...It...

....It moved  
Why – Why is it moving?

What What What Mommy Mommy Mommy

A man...  
He looks, " Who...are you?"

He smells bad,  
He's covered in goo  
He got out  
He's not wearing anything  
" I have to leave!" I screamed,. " I'm going to Mommy!"

He stretches out and fingers GROW BIG GROW BIG GROW BIG VERY BIG! " What are you doing here...?"

" Why are you not – not wearing anything – why are you in goo – Mommy Mommy!"

" Come back!" he grabs me and I move. His hand SO BIG  
" NOO NOOO NOOOOOO!"  
" Tell me!"  
" NOOO NOOO NOOOO!"

I run and run and run and run and run. No, No, No, No, No, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, Mommy, Mommy

" ZARA WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN I HAVE ENOUGH PROBLEMS!"  
Daddy, " You left Zara alone here – this isn't the best neighbourhood!"  
" No wonder you buy your whores from here!"  
" I ain't a whore Mrs. I gave your hubbie what he aching down below!"  
" You keep your mouth shout my daughter is here! – Zara..."

I looked down. I peed my pants. Yellow. Like that Yellow Man. Like Yellow Eyes.

I screamed.

" Zara baby honey what's wrong?! Why is your dress so messy? Where is the clip on your hair? Baby what's wrong?!"  
" You shouldn't have left Zara –"  
" Shut Up!" she...Dad..." Baby, Baby Zara what's wrong..."

" Yellow Eyes."  
" What sweetie."  
" Yellow Eyes."

" Yellow Eyes."

I don't remember anything anymore.


	2. Chapter 1

**Expression = Nakedness**

" **The art of macabre rests in one's own pinnacle....overflowing creation of non-creation..."**

She resists buying the chocolate. She got panicky again. She really did binge eat when she was panicky. She did not like to – automated impulse and she yearns to know an alternative. Things, simple things have the stubbornness of becoming really hard as she has read in the book _The God Of Small Things_ (though she did not finish it yet).

She was only twenty-four yet she looked actually younger due to her childish antics. That's why she still didn't have a boyfriend.

Zara Sultana walked along the streets of Baltimore, Maryland with a feeling of nudity and she felt as a forced exhibitionist. Not a nice thought to possess. She seemed clumsy to many. She was not the stereotypical pretty – glasses, long tee with graphic illustrations, blue jeans and converse. She looked like a daydreamer caught midst a flashing orb of reality – as if a dream incarnated in the three-dimensional world. Her coffee tasted sweet. She had sweetened it too much. Craving. Not the useful kind.

What was the useful kind? Yes – the pyramid of books – she was part-bibliophile, part procrastinator, part diversifier part I-don't-want-change girl. Not a label set. She drank coffee. Thought of exams. Her mom. Her Dad. She was an only child. Their sun; their solar system could not function without her. However – if she was sun – could she function without them?

The age myth of earth being the centre had validity – you don't see the sun flaunting clouds, skies and solid fertility as a form of luxuriant foliage of gifts. However, Galileo stating otherwise showed in a way the existence of finer fates – sun draws the faith of God in a metaphorical centre and also the fruit of goals besides the hedonistic extremes of narcissism. Sun is Box – Earth is Pandora.

Thus the preservation equalizes to the formation of universal gravity (this terminology of 'universal gravity' was taught to her by _Revolutionary Girl Utena_, one of her favourite Japanese animation series).

She thought of quizzes, term papers and the deadlines for presentations: deadlines for emotional management.

_Maybe, the truth is out there..._

Lines chord an instrument that is played by the alchemists - of spiritual mathematics and philosophical diagrams.

The truth out there is also the truth in - the transcendental beyonds that defies measurements and pure definitions of the detonated comfort.

A truth that is worldly, physical, lively and phantasm-ized as Rushdie's construction of Saleem Sinai of _Midnight's Children_ (another book she didn't entirely finish). This habit of not finishing was both procrastination and also activity. Paradoxical entailing of the word 'hyperactivity' – her parents complained – she was still so child-like – always seemingly on an ADD rush.

Zara drank her coffee. Not too pleased. Her fantasies nowadays include boyfriends. She feels like a horny teenager. Worse – those maids of not-being-dated-aged kind. She sighs. It's so embarrassing. She blushes.

It is at this moment if people could see her – the glasses minus and eyes not on the sides of surface – the word _sexy_ skilfully vibrates. Not body made-up doll sexy but sensuous as a guaranteed turn-on. Like shooting stars excluded due to busy bodies her sensuous is missed. Strangers have had an opportune touch of glistening silver yet those ribbons escapes the skin.

Margins are noticed. Depth is hard to notice, Observers thus use scopes to micro-see and tele-see. Those lenses are not usually automatic. Thus chances are in plain words that the hot stuff gets badly missed. The read deal flies off.

Zara does not like Baltimore, Maryland. She does not really remember why. Only that it had _nothing _to do with her parents' divorce – as those psychiatrists and psychologists explained. Sure she had a blue note in her heart-key but she wasn't singing the blues for that. No, the psyche has plummeted a darker scratch one that did not easily mitigate.

It translated to one colour: yellow.

She hated drawings that children did with rudimentary suns those smiley yellow balls (in fact she stopped reading _Far From The_ _Madding Crowd_ as it started with rudimentary suns) – it felt all glowed out of proportion. Glow?

Goo.

For a strange reason she had a hard time writing these words. They seemed crude. They were not simple words. They seemed paranoid. Hard. Rough. Soft. Sickly Soft. Like paper in glue.

These apparels haunted her. She recollected fragments now. Her parents refused details. They said it was their divorce. But one strong push made her father state: " You were talking about a man...with yellow eyes... of course you were having a bad dream..."

Yellow  
Eyes  
GROW  
GROW  
GLOW  
BIG  
BIG

She stops.  
The Hands.  
Building.

Why do puzzle pieces tease you like coquettish prostitutes? Like a high class whore who waltzes around as a playboy he manages to lack the emotional high of loving and become smoother and slimier as the process of 'courtship' ensues (as Sade puts it).

Slimy.  
Eww.  
She shivers.

These words. They hardened her. Made her uncomfortable. Made her stand still. Made her want to cry. She remembered she was nine or something....but there was a man...naked...

_Why is the truth not out there?  
Or, is it? Is it so very out and in – like osmotic channels in a frenzied state of multiplication?  
Why?_

Why can't she remember what happened?

**X**

Going home is never easy. She has a housemate who never stays in the house long. She likes to be with her boyfriend and play stay-sex in his smaller apartment. She hinted she would be leaving. She was getting out, getting a larger place so she can play territory and stay-sex with her boyfriend without worrying about calling in saying "don't wait up – I'm staying out..."

Zara was not that happy. In fact, despite some disagreements she liked Hannah. However, Hannah did not like Zara too much. She thought Zara was a disgusting transgender and was happy at her apparent freak-virgin status.

Actually, she was pissed as well – her boyfriend once said Zara had nice boobs (actually she did, way bustier than Hannah).

When Zara enters the kitchen there is a pandemonium. Hannah is having a fight with her boyfriend. That meant her brought plates were also broken. Zara attempts to control the situation:

" Hannah please stop you're breaking everything! Please! What's wrong!"

" The stupid bitch! You ugly little –" the boyfriend was screaming.

Hannah counter-screamed: " You dickless sob you fucking bastard! How dare you fuck Melissa! She's like my cousin! God you can't even screw me right and you think you can screw her! HER! Maybe – 'cause she's like this slut spreading her pussy out for hire! How dare you! You dickless wonder! HER! She's like rotten cum on a sidewalk in a red-light district!"

Zara pondered that Hannah could use productive, derogative terminologies to insult her beau (seriously – she saw nothing quite stable in the couple except fucking) but this thought was strangely interrupted by a scowl, wail and the breaking of more dishes. And as Zara predicted – they were hers.

" Please Hannah stop! You're breaking my dishes too!"

Hannah glared at her – " You bookworm stay outta it! GO FUCKING STUDY OR SOMETHING!"

Zara looked stern – " Hannah this is my place too ok – calm down we can talk through this!"

" Bitch! Bitch!" the boyfriend was too concerned on Hannah's insults to care of the presence of Zara he launched himself forward, " I CAN BANG WHOEVER I WANT AND YOU SHUT UP WHORE! YOU SHOULD BE HONOURED I'M DOING YOU!"

Hannah and her boyfriend were now in a tussle and fighting around the room – Hair pulling – scratching – punching – swearing – biting even and Zara was amazed at their skills to hurt each other: they resembled rabid dogs at their finest.

" STOP IT BOTH OF YOU!"

Zara knew the middle-ground in such calamities spelled catastrophe yet end this quarrel (or was it para-war?) before it resulted in police authority flashing and two of them getting charges for domestic violence (well there was both female and male abuse occurring simultaneously and the way Hannah was in her worst she can't charm the police out of the fact she wounded someone).

Well Zara struggled and was punched and kicked a couple of times (by both hands) and finally broke them apart with pushes and slaps – "You are acting like kids in a messed up playground!" she saw them both still preparing for the second round, " You can't be acting like this – you guys are in a fucking relationship."

" SHUT UP OK ZARA!" Hannah wailed, " HE FUCKED- MEL THAT SLUT I'M GONNA – POUND HER PUSSY THAT DIRTY SLUT!"  
" You see Zara – she ain't mentally fit – I just gotta walk out on her!"  
" Mentally fit my ass! I'll probably go fuck your bro! How you like that huh!"  
" YOU LITTLE WHORE! YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING TWAT!"

" Stop it I bet the whole building can hear you!"

" You know what I'm coming back at night and you better be here!" Hannah's boyfriend looked really cocky, " Nor else I will leave your skank-ass! I can do whatever I want!"

After he was gone and Zara panted at this emotional wreck of a coming-back-home Hannah still seemed thirsty for blood; her spitting tongue came out as a snake-bite:"WHO TOLD YOU TO COME AND INTERFERE! HUH?! THIS IS BETWEEN US!"

Zara felt terribly insulted: " Excuse me but I live here too and look at the mess you've made and listen if he has hurt you just break up with him. I told you before Hannah that this relationship isn't a good one. Please, you can obviously do better and it'll easier on you too. Now c'mon we gotta clean up..."

Hannah looked at her with daggers, " And why are you bossing me around?! I'm going to John's and I'll fuck him let's see how he likes that! I bet that he won't like it! He'll be begging me to take him back!"

" Please Hannah – don't go causing more trouble just break up and start doing something else. Be with someone new and get a good start in life."

" Who are _you_ to tell _me _things? _I _didn't ask for _your _advice – besides, you've _never_ dated _anyone_ and you _obviously _don't know what to do: you are obviously _unlearned_ in this department so you better keep quiet."

Zara looked surprised then she sternly said, " Hannah all I want is your own fucking good and I think you should start thinking straight and stop living like this."

" Who gives a rat's fucking ass what you think – I'm going out for a good-get-back-fuck and John's lucky tonight!"  
" Hannah wait I'm not – Hannah wait you can't clean this up by myself!"  
" Oh c'mon Zara what else have you got to do except read books? It's not like you are going out on a date."

After Hannah left Zara cursed and avoided going to the dining room and the kitchen. She refused to be slave to some other violence that wasn't hers to care for – to tend to.

She went to the living room and just lied down on the couch – she pressed her fingers on the bridge of her nose then on her eyes. She was feeling horribly frustrated and the feeling of nudity has deepened – it does at times when she recollects snips – glow, glow, grow –hands and suddenly she gasps. Like a daydream-awake, a nightmare had suddenly clawed at her. She hadn't fallen asleep, Just recollected.

I don't understand it. Yellow – that colour sometimes scared her. It's like it's some kind of monster...

She didn't like sitting idle so she got her laptop and decided to browse around her favourite sites. She didn't feel like studying – she had too much drama to not be irritated. She looked at articles on Yahoo and then decided to read some things on blogs. She was all alone in her apartment. Sometimes it feels more than the physical lonely. She knew it was emotional lonely too.

After all – she never had a proper love-interest and she has never been anyone's.

It was a sudden heartache. _So like am I gonna be alone forever...?_

She never felt she deserved love and that was in contradiction with her longing for it. Her answer to her own question was: _Who'd wanna love a girl who went to like twenty psychologists and psychiatrists since she was like eleven. And I was like always so childish. No wonder even when I was sixteen no one wanted to ask me to go to a dance, date nothing...I haven't even kissed anyone – God what a Sabrina stereotype I am!_

Zara held herself. She was feeling depressed and – Lonely

**X**

He knew he felt lonely. Without her life had subtracted meaning. It was if life's actually made sense only with her around. It was nothing-empty without her flare. The caress – the words – the faith – the belief....all those things that did not have place in loneliness were now gone because he was in isolation.

A trick in the mind – fantasize – it allowed him to cope. Allowed him to believe that she hadn't left with those words:  
" Listen...I'm not that normal – I'm going away – it'll be difficult but I know you'll pull through..."

" No, you listen – if you are as immortal as those beings said then we can still work at it. There's no need to leave..."  
" You know he can help me."  
" Like hell cause he knows shit!"  
" I think Delphin can – he's like me too."  
" Don't – don't go..."  
" I know it would end – you and me – I tried hard not to think on it but it has to."  
" I love you."  
" Yeah, so do I – but my one is not enough I guess."  
" You're leaving – I can't let you!"  
" You know stopping me won't make a difference."  
" Why the fuck do you have to make things difficult?!"  
" Your stubbornness – I guess I always loved that about you..."  
" So – this is it..."  
" You know this can't be goodbye. How can you and I have that?"

But he knew it was a form of goodbye. Over ten years together. Hell. He thought but maybe it wasn't them. It was circumstances. They would always be allies, comrade-in-arms and even more than lovers. It's not like they did not love each other anymore – love like theirs did not evaporate like boiling water – it was – will love – it was the love that could not be defeated but could not be. This form of love was a subtraction to the love felt and so he had borne the bruises; it was strong love but a love that was not the love of companionship in its entirety. I guess he knew it too. Knew that one day it would have to end – yet it still hurt...

He missed Scully – his beloved Dana Scully.

He knew he could cry. He did too. Many a times. But that did stop the pain.

He wanted to hear it again – during love-making, during showers-together, during coffee at hands, during a deep-rooted conversation – he'd like to hear it. " Mulder..."

He loved the name now. Though it was never his she made it his – Mulder and Fox. She would joke recently (before parting) with a light ease, " So, aren't you the fox that got away..."

_Am I?_

He wanted to tell Scully – like he did during climax – THAT HE LOVED HER. NEEDED HER. BUT WHY COULDN'T SHE LOVE HIM TOO! IN THE WAY THAT IT WOULDN'T BE DIFFICULT!

_Scully_, his mind got numb at times, _I always loved calling you Scully – 'cause it was special – it showed you were unique..._

He never got enough sleep nowadays. He had gotten used to being with his beloved Scully. Lapping her – kissing her – teasing her – she was a timeless beauty – he wanted more and more...

He would reminiscence her body. Feel the warmth of palms on chest, his chest, nails on back and fingertips light with a tracing skill – she could read him through skin.

He would be in a gloom. He didn't do much. Sometimes he'd get a call or two from Scully. Those were life. He hung like no tomorrow would come. They would talk at times for hours. Sometimes briefly. Sometimes it was just "Hi – I'm doing well – you? – oh, I guess I wanted to hear from you; you know Delphin and I decided to walk through-" it was like experimentation for her. Immortality. But to him it was the dividing knife – Delphin and immortality – he secretly despised both but to keep happiness afloat in this hell-tsunami he'd say " Wow – I wish I could do that!" and sometimes the desire was genuine because then it would not be Delphin and Scully – it'd be Mulder and Scully – like he wanted it to be.

But, maybe – she didn't want it anymore. Because it could not work anymore. Like the lifespan could not sustain anymore.

_Guess if I hibernate I could blur out all this shit?!_

It was that one particular word that triggered it – hands reaching out, shocked face, him stating that it was genetic make-up and that killing was not only a high but necessity – it was that one word _hibernate_.

_Wow, I'm thinking of that bastard...he was one of the first fucking monsters I had to face. His name had weight that one – weight that I guess substituted for a lack of conscience – no guilty feelings there – weight that almost made him human despite his beyond fucked up position. _

He remembered thinking it was now or never. Thinking if he didn't do it then it'd be prolonged. The monster might get away again. Sleep again. Or – get disbelieved again. No – fucking hell NO – he had to end it. It was easy.

He switched on the escalator.

Heard the motherfucker scream. Heard him howl. Good – let him know how it feels to die not wanting it. Saw the blood as metal grinded, growled and gobbled that piece of freak-flesh. However, he wouldn't deny it.

He had been afraid.

When that thing reached out from its paper ball of yarn-ball-shit home and tried to grab him – it was scary. However, he had a feeling that would happen – after all, the bitch tried to frame him didn't he?

Obviously that scared him somewhat too. That screw loose left a screw loose in his apartment; on purpose? He wouldn't say it wasn't a mistake (after all dickhead did leave ten inches hanging about) – but then again was it a threat? Just because I didn't kill you doesn't mean I _can't_...

Also –he was an animal with a human intelligence – he knew factoids well like how to drive cars, how to pass lie-detectors and how to keep his hands over his head – he probably knew about the wonders of the internet too. Bet he could operate that to his advantage as well – the motherfucker was a scientist's best fuck ever possible –

An Adaptable Killer

He did want to study the bastard. Tinker into him, as his fingers ripped out delicacies he thought why not screw around with that fucker too. Why was he so adaptive? Why was he so manipulative? Did he never have a conscience?

Mulder pondered on it. Didn't the fucker _ever_ have any companions? Didn't he _ever_ want to be with someone? Hell, didn't he _ever_ want to _fuck _someone?

The idea of that bastard fucking made Mulder laugh out loud. It was too obscene and comical – though as he indiscriminately killed men _and_ women who'd he fuck – animals? Is that why he was in animal control?

Mulder had another thought that freaked him out – the idea of him doing the dead. Absolutely disgusting. Then again he was a putrid piece of abnormality living though not deserving it. He couldn't believe that no one realized that a small man with no distinguishable post or features could be something that_**dangerously extraordinary**_.

Society does help to build the killer a suitable nest.

_Nest_ – so like an animal but with some human sentiments. An evidence that if there were no parameters, no regulations and no others could we too thrive like him – an animal with only the insatiable desire to protect and exist?

Or, are we all him in our twisted ways? Only – not so voyeuristic in our procedures? Our charms not so directly put on the plate? Or – though we kill in almost such a refined manner that his becomes a vulgar exhibit?

Maybe so – but not entirely – Mulder wasn't a misanthrope nor its opponent – merely a realist who could see odds and evens.

Speaking of _real _wasn't it Salman Rushdie who said it was subjective – he should know that mainstream real was not like real-real always. The tooth fairy may just exist but not wear a frilly dress – she might happen to wear bondage gear and love to wrap you in leather while she takes out teeth and give you a kiss on your real penny.

He remembered how the fucker tried to kill Scully. Soon rage was on. How he had rescued her from being prey and another meal in a trophy set. In fact that was one of the first genuine interactions he had with his beloved Scully. One of the first times he was able to prove his worth. Prove to Scully he wasn't designated "Spooky" Mulder. She had trusted him from then on it seemed. Ice Tea – yes as cool and hot as tea could get. He wanted to sleep then – in her. Those red locks like a silk of some other nice worm – kiss it, touch her and make-love. He had thought of it. There was never a time he hadn't considered. But there was one thing – Fox William Mulder may be aggressive in the field but women brought out shyness. He had never really had the so-called good relationship. Hell – he was quite sex-deprived too seeing that he had worked meticulously from the start. An FBI agent didn't translate to I'd-fuck-whenever-whoever-I-want but I'll-have-dry-spells-gotta-live-with-it and as he was not considered the normal agent that definition was squared in his case (or should he say cubed?). However, he guessed he wasn't entirely unhappy with his case.

He only knew he missed Scully a lot.

It hurt a lot to think of her...

He wondered if she was eating right...sleeping right – hopefully not next to that bastard Delphin!

_That fucker came into my mind...don't like that though..._

Mulder would never deny it – his admittance was that he was a freak of nature and creepy as hell – especially because he was one of the first monsters he had had to face. Going after him with rage – that thing was furious – that's the second time they have invaded his territory – he was out to kill this time but Mulder wasn't gonna give up without a fight.

He knew that he wouldn't and couldn't let the bastard win. Animal or not he had human sentiments and he knew about his activities – that made him more vicious and more deadly. He couldn't control. Didn't want it nor did he seek it. His very existence was made as such – kill and eat.

And that – though decidedly simple – was the most cruellest and horrifying goal to own.

He wanted to go to bed. Try to sleep – maybe even dream about Scully – maybe even sink into it with teeth-plausible senses and gain both an emotional and sexual high – love's binary units. Yet the comfort of the thought was strangely interrupted...

Knock  
Knock

_Huh – who...could, who knows I'm here?_

Mulder neared his gun and went near the door – "Who is it?"

"Don't be apprehensive Mr Mulder..." as though he had heard the click of the gun, " I am an FBI agent."  
" And may I know what are you doing here?!" Mulder has that deathly polite edge, " I no longer work for the institution. I am as normal as a civilian hence I can make mistakes and think you to be a man breaking in."

" No need for you to resort to violence." A bit hesitant, the man realized Mulder was serious, " However – this does concern your long history with us – please, could you listen..."  
"Alright."  
"Can you open the –"  
"I can listen great from this side"  
"Agent Mulder –"  
"I'm no longer –"  
"Please, someone – or shall I say _something_ – has come back from the files!"

Mulder put down his gun, "What?"  
"Mr Mulder, there is something, I don't if I should call_ him_ a _human_, has come back and I believe you know him."  
"Get to the point."  
"Please open the door."

Mulder does – gun readied – "What's this about?"  
"Eugene Victor Tooms."

**X**

It is one in the morning and Zara has been not being able to sleep properly. She is tired but unable to wretch out "yellow" from her system – it is such a loud and disgusting colour! No – not disgusting but the levels it takes in her head are hideous – she wants to be free from it – but how? Can any freedom be achieved...?

She looks up channels – wearisome flicks on the remote – there is a new anime on a channel – actually, it's old but she hasn't seen it yet. It's called _Bleach_ – the yellowish-orange hair of the protagonist feels uncomfortable for a bit. She soothes herself from feeling panicky. It is quite useless to feel such things, yet, she does feel them. This is a curse.

_Why can't I copy, paste and delete like in files? Why does the brain refuse to be like a com-putated-device, Psyche 7 (as in Windows 7) able to maximize user potency and ease!_

One answer: _Your brain isn't a commercial – it'll screech and say that you are forcing it to prostitution!_

_Ah well, at least I can read a book..._

She wants to switch off the television when there is a strange sound – of her lock being opened... "Hannah, is that you...?"

And it is – she's looking pale – as though – as though something has really crossed her limits to contain things "John's dead..."  
"WHAT!"  
"My beau killed him!"  
"What the hell do you mean?!"  
"Yes – he did. He just found us after – I mean he's his brother..."  
" Ok...Hannah – calm down – we've gotta go to the police – we have to –"

She's interrupted by a harsh sound – the door being banged perpetually – "Hannah! You whore! Open up!" the hinges became hesitant should they hold him back?

"Oh God! Zara help me!"  
"Go away!" Zara screamed, "This isn't your house Alan!"  
" Shut up!" the boyfriend was livid, "Where is that whore!" then mockingly, "Hannah you see what I can do!" he laughed "I don't give a shit who's who I kill 'em if they betray me! You whore I'm gonna fuck you up good! And your pretty little roomie too!"  
"Zara! ZARA!"  
"Hannah – calm down – we have to do something!"  
"NO! NO!"

This was a "no" to the fact that Alan, the so-called boyfriend, had broken the door and was now inside the house breathing hard and with eyes cruelly intent to damage – he spotted Hannah and grinned – "Tonight I'll teach you whore how to stay in your place!"

"No! No!" Hannah pushed Zara out of the way and ran to the living room with Alan in pursuit – Zara had fallen down because of not being aware of Hannah's impulsive push – she trips the man as he runs – he falls heavy on the wooden floor and Hannah starts screaming.

"Bitch!" Alan roars and kicks Zara on her shoulder – but she is strong and she recovers and kicks him – right on the face with him yelling and she bouncing back up and telling Hannah – "Run to your room and lock the door!"

Hannah is so scared she is saying – "You can't kill me! You just can't! You already killed your own brother!"  
"Fuck you! Fuck you whore!"  
"Hannah dammit run!"

But Hannah is slow and Alan becomes fast – he gets up and punches her in the face which makes the girl scream and fall down clutching her face, crying and moaning – he goes to pick her up – clenching his fists; he wants to punch her again. Zara lashes out and he grabbed hold of her hair and punches Zara on the face – Zara does not seem that hurt. She releases his grip and punches him – it's hard. He is surprised that it hurts – "AHHH!" and falls down the floor. By this time Hannah is sitting up crying and wailing screaming "You can't! You can't!"

"Hannah snap outta it!" Zara commands "Think straight for a moment!"

Zara is caught off-guard and he kicks her hard making her fall to the floor – he gets up and wants to hurt her but Hannah wailing makes his sadistic aim all the merrier – "Yeah bitch! Wait till I make you scream harder!"

Zara is about to get back. Strength never leaving – when something catches her eyes – Yellow eyes – are they...? They are near the small vent – they are near and looking – no – no, can't be eyes – no – can't be eyes – just can't be – but they...they...blink – as if looking at her with a form of recognition...? A sense of familiarity...her breath feels heavy and she blurs her surroundings as if in an impulse of analysis – there is a face – it is quite monotonous – no sense of emotion. Just plain. Yet it shifts as if observing.

A yell from Hannah breaks the warp of silence and focus – she gets up – was she merely seeing things – no – but – Hannah – she runs and sees Hannah's clothes slightly ripped and Alan roaring "You like dick that much baby I'm gonna suffocate you in mine!"

"Stop right there!" Zara commands with a strong tone devoid of any carelessness – "The way I see it you are already a fucker going to prison! Let's not make it a death sentence shall we after all it could turn into one..."

"Stay away from this! You little whore!" Alan yelled, "I like you better anyway! Don't make me change my mind not to hurt you – I'm telling you! I can be with you! All you gotta let me do is bust up this slut!"

Zara narrows her gaze – "What makes you think I wish to be someone like you...a useless fucker of a man..."

"You slut!" this provokes him and he punches Hannah one more time (to which she wails loudly) and rushes to Zara with intentions to bruise "I'll make you eat those words with my dick!"

"Naturally you think you have one but you are one useless son-of-a-bitch who can't think without his penis!" Zara avoids the punch and in turn punches him – he yells and grabs Zara – they are having a tussle – all this time Hannah – bruised, blood-worn and exhausted screams in a monstrous fashion.

"You are a bastard!"  
"Shut up you bitch!"  
"Worthless human trash!"  
"Whore! Whore! Whore!"  
"Do you any other words! Limited bimbo!"  
"ARGHHH!"

He punched her again and she fell down after stumbling on a chair. She looked near another vent – the yellow eyes had appeared once more and were looking more ablaze – teeth somewhat bared....it was....it looked human...what would it...arghhh....The bastard stepped on her hand – stomping was more appropriate – "Bitch I'll teach your place too you fucking little arghhh!!!!"

Zara grabbed his foot and got him down – she was about to punch his face when long fingers shot off the vent and scratched hard the man's calves – he went howling – Zara took her chance and hit him on the face – it was a good knock-out. Hannah had been screaming and during their tussle had abandoned Zara – she ran out of the apartment. Zara was breathing hard – a bit exhausted by fighting with an irrational individual – or was he one – did he possess individuality at all?

She had not noticed the vent unscrewing nor the long figure coming out – slender yet slick – patient yet violent – methodical yet intense – it sleeked as blood – natural in its pour – as if it was engineered to know – to slip – to seethe. When she noticed...her breath was caught...it possessed an ease almost criminal to nature.

Yellow was strong.  
The eyes looked.  
He was not on fours looking at her. She didn't know what to say...the eyes looked...they kept looking...and fingers long seem to become normal...does he (it was a _he_ right?) desire gratitude...?

He was alert and saw the open door and saw her lying still. It amused him. She could run away...? She could just leap and leave...why was she...?

Zara almost started a scream that was a normality given the situation but then she focused, entranced in a depth of disbelief –  
" It's you...you...you are real – I knew it – you covered in yellow slime...you...that was over ten years ago...how come you look the same!"

Suddenly the man (was it _man_?) smiled in an amused manner – "You...know me...?" voice etched in a fashion of inquisition yet also a slight curiosity – an eagerness controlled.  
" Yes...of course I do..." Zara was now scrambling away, perched up yet still not standing, yet with feet and hands restless.

The man realized and his eyes glowed with a lustful glaze, eyes bright, stare-bizarre – "You were they...you are older now..."

"I knew it wasn't a hallucination – you are real..."

The man rushed forwards on fours his face now so close to Zara's – as if he was a carnivore build for preying on fours – "You have grown but you look somewhat the same – I had a feeling I know you..."

"You are the yellow that I've known..." Zara looked, eyes-wide and breath-hard, "Grotesque..."

The man did not seem pleased with this. A frown appeared – no rage yet not astray from dislike: "Am I grotesque?"

"You can be – I know."

The man seemed irritated by some sounds and he pushed back into the vent – eyes always ablaze – a smile then he squeezed out it seems; how...the...Zara was puzzled – scared, she yearned to scream yet knew not how. She was now so emotionally devastated – for the creature had the silent exchange that he would be seeing her again.

Yet, she recovered (devastation receding) and she got up...she could hear the familiar voices of people and of the authorities...you can't tell them everything...

**X**

Author's note: Well – I hope you like the story so far. I think Tooms is one of the most loved X-Files monster but there isn't many fics based on him except some good ones in and some written by Drovar that deals with explicit material (he/she inspired me a lot to write this fic).


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